


The Retreat

by queensmanor



Series: The Retreat [1]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Demisexual Ben Solo, Demisexual Rey (Star Wars), F/M, Force Dyad (Star Wars), Post TLJ, Post-TLJ, Rey is Not a Palpatine, Romance, TROS who? don't know her, The Force Ships It
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:21:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25743502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queensmanor/pseuds/queensmanor
Summary: Catastrophic events, near-death experiences, and lackluster odds can leave one uncertain of the future. Certain doubts can be awoken, and those doubts can place a person at a crossroads. Four weeks after the events of TLJ, lionheart Rey finds herself feeling adrift and in need of time to recenter herself. So, she intends to take a two week retreat of sorts during which she distances herself from the war. However, just because she may need a break from the war, doesn't mean the war wants or needs a break from her. What happens when it catches up to her in the form of one towering Supreme Leader? Will she find answers because of unexpected company?
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Series: The Retreat [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1867432
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	1. Checked In

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a crazy 2020, huh? I do plan on updating From Doves to Ravens ( and soon hopefully ), but in the meantime a plot idea popped up in mind and I've begun getting several chapters of this written out. As usual, I'm tossing out most things that TROS introduced except for certain things like the dyad concept. Of course, please keep in mind that this fic takes place post-TLJ and pre-TROS. Basically, this timeline is one in which TROS won't happen, but everything up to the end of TLJ has happened.

It’s been a total of four weeks since the fateful day the last legendary Jedi assisted the Resistance in eluding their foes. How slowly time has seemed to crawl ever since. She’d hardly be surprised if someone informed her that it’s only been four days. Yet, weeks in which they’ve managed to find a temporary base to serve as a place of recuperation and weeks in which the First Order has begun adapting to new leadership have indeed passed. Despite that, she finds herself adrift and doubting the path that lies before her. She’d not sought out this tumultuous war that threatens to destroy all who participate in it, and she’s begun to grow fatigued upon the pedestal that awestruck rebels have found fit to place her on. She’s no Jedi, and becoming one was never truly her goal. Is she where she should be or is there another future that she’s meant to seize?

It’s this dilemma that’s compelled her to travel to the peaceful planet of Netebrae, which hosts a cross between a quaint village and a bustling metropolis. The area’s architecture is scenic and less pretentious than other destinations, but there’s a liveliness present that ensures the typical quiet of a township is absent. Cobblestone pathways are aplenty, and the residents are generally welcoming individuals ready to partake in community events. One of those is to be held next week here, but it’s not the event that’s lured her to this place. An inextinguishable desire for a respite - an opportunity to simply exist as Rey rather than the lionized apprentice of Luke Skywalker - has brought her here. Selfish as the desire admittedly is when her assistance is more invaluable than ever before, she cannot resist satisfying it by temporarily setting aside thoughts of galactic conflict. Not entirely, of course. Her goal is to leave with a refocused mind and renewed resolve. She’ll be able to provide more help if she liberates herself from uncertainty’s greedy grasp.

Yesterday, using an alias to complement her disguise, she checked in to the local inn. Though the planet is affiliated neither with the First Order nor the Resistance, she’d rather not risk being spotted by someone who might recognize her due to the exorbitant bounty placed upon her head. The inn is an unpretentious yet picturesque place with oak doors framed by the greenest of vines and rooms that might be just slightly more spacious than the average room one would find at an inn elsewhere. A bony and elderly sentient, the innkeeper mentioned that he had two rooms left. With a seemingly benevolent smile, he offered one of the rooms with an initial free night. Enticement meant to persuade her to confirm her intent to stay. It’s not so much about generosity as it is a keen interest in encouraging the revelers soon to arrive for the upcoming festivities to patron local establishments. It’s a prudent decision likely to result in the generation of more revenue than that which would have been gleaned from requiring guests to pay the full price.

Though she possesses not the wherewithal to fund her entire stay at the end, she gratefully accepted the offer and promptly proceeded to unwind in her room. Save for her journey out to retrieve food from one of the nearby dining establishments, she contentedly spent the entire day resting inside of the room. Something that she’d have believed to be impossible to do given her ingrained industriousness and tenacious need to be as productive as can be. Yet, she proved herself wrong and she’s even managed to sleep in this morning. Granted, she woke sporadically throughout the night as she can never seem to sleep straight through the night. From vivid dreams to an active mind to a sensitivity to noise, multiple factors contribute to her lack of ability to sleep serenely without waking several times.

Even so, this new day has seen her shamelessly enjoying downtime inside of her room. The only outside interruption she anticipates is the innkeeper coming by to collect payment for the additional nights that she intends to spend. So, it doesn’t stun her when in the late afternoon, she hears a knock on the door. She’s just not exactly enthusiastic about rising from her bed. A real bed with clean sheets and a firm mattress. It’s a luxury she could only dream of for years. Still, she knows she must answer that door.

With a listless sigh departing from her lips, she shows a lack of urgency in making her way to the door. It’s as she raises her hand in the direction of the awaiting knob that a jolt of electricity passes through the air. It travels swiftly - with a speed rivaling that of lightning when it dances across a stormy sky. It’s a striking feeling accompanied by a nagging voice in her mind. That clear voice - the voice of a preternatural instinct - is a cautionary one that urges her to refrain from opening the door. Not with the consequentiality of a life or death situation, fortunately.

The voice simply suggests that she won’t be particularly fond of the sight that waits for her just beyond the oak door in front of her. Impatiently, she just shrugs it off as weariness stemming from a lack of desire to settle the matter of payment for the duration of her clandestine retreat here. After all, without the means to pay, she’ll have to use the Force on the innkeeper to manipulate him.

With that in mind, she proceeds to cease delaying the inevitable. Once hovering just above the weathered wood of the door’s handle, feminine fingers take hold and open the door. Her posture immediately adopts a formality to it. A cautious and slightly combative tenseness, rather. Vexation and an indescribable emotion battle for dominance within her hazel eyes as they unexpectedly descry familiar features. No, the gangly proprietor of the inn has most certainly not paid a visit to her.

In a tone of voice that’s neither icily belligerent nor disarmingly genial, she forces a question out. Her knuckles whiten as her grip on the door’s interior handle tightens.

“What are you doing here?”

Coolly, he raises an obsidian brow. It nearly vanishes ‘neath lustrous waves of equally dark hair. Despite the nearly faint circles beneath his eyes - telltale indicators of sleeplessness, he looks exactly as he did when last they conversed.

“I could ask you the same.”

Guardedly, she crosses her arms over her chest. Just as she doesn’t need a reason to be on this planet, she supposes he doesn’t need one either. He does, however, need a reason to be here - at the very door leading to where she’s to be slumbering for the next two weeks. It’s no mere accident that he’s knocked on her door of all doors.

“The First Order has no claim to this planet, and there’s nothing here of interest. It’s neutral territory, and the people here strive to exist in peace.”

Although she’s undoubtedly certain that she’s correct about all of those things, he still pushes forth something of a scoff. Not a derisive one, but a detectable sound of amusement.

“Of what interest is this planet to the Resistance? Even if the Resistance’s numbers are less than impressive, I have trouble imagining the entire group staying in this inn. It would be no different from surrendering.”

She’s both unable and unwilling to confirm that she’s here in solitude. Nor can she use false bravado to convince him that she isn’t. She can’t and won’t attempt to deceive him with lies that he’ll automatically see right through. So instead of being honest or deceitful about the Resistance’s absence on the planet, she settles for tersely posing a query.

“What point are you trying to make?”

A gentleness someone such as the temperamental Force user shouldn’t be capable of using permeates his voice and manifests upon his countenance.

“It’s just you here. Yet, for some reason you feel that I can’t be here on my own too.”

Though she never truly suspected that the First Order has anything to do with his unforeseen appearance, there’s no evading acknowledgement of it anymore.

“This isn’t about the First Order. You also aren’t here coincidentally. So, why?”

She’s not inquiring about the general motivation behind his journey here, and she can tell that he need not receive an elucidation to comprehend that. He understands her question entirely.

“Can we discuss this inside?”

After an appreciable moment of indecisiveness, she ultimately offers a resolute nod and steps to the side to grant him entrance to her temporary place of dwelling. He gives what she perceives as a nod of gratitude before stepping past her. His eyes show irreproachable vigilance in scanning his environment. From her worn boots placed haphazardly near the unit’s modest kitchen to her nondescript satchel lying upon untidy sheets, it’s as if he’s perusing for signs of her in particular.

When ready, he takes a seat at the table. After closing the door, she joins her bondmate at the table and waits for him to speak. The exhaustion that creeps up on his face isn’t one caused directly by restless sleep, but rather caused by whatever it is that has prevented him from knowing less fitful nights especially as of late.

“Longing is suffocating. You spend years knowing something is missing, and doubt threatens to eat you alive. I don’t need to describe the feeling to you. You already know.”

Signaling her intention to interrupt, she raises her right hand with its coarse palm facing him. Once sure that he means to stop to listen to her, she lets her hand return to her lap and she clears her throat.

“You know that I do. While you’re here though, you need to agree not to discuss my parents. You’ve proven that you don’t know how to discuss them, and a reminder of that isn’t necessary.”

He blinks twice before remorse momentarily occupied his eyes. Though he appears tempted to say something that might contradict that contrition, he seems to think better of it and gives a nod.

“I agree not to discuss them while I’m here.”

Only after she gives a tepid nod conveying mild satisfaction, does he continue on with his previous line of thought.

“Some people find what they’re missing, but finding what you’re missing and having that ripped from you is more devastating than never finding what was missing.”

Even though it’s not exactly challenging to determine what ( or rather who ) he’s referring to specifically in his own case, she still voices questions that bear far more weight than words could articulate.

“What was ripped from you? What were you missing?”

Immediately, his gaze snaps up with its customary intensity to meet hers. He squanders no time in answering.

“You. You’re needed and wanted more than anyone - even you - can imagine.”

Swallowing, she carefully glances away from his unwavering attention. She yearns to be appreciated so deeply, but she’s not yet ready to address his fervent desire. For multiple reasons, this just isn’t the time to address these sentiments that she’s kindled within the older Force sensitive. So, naturally she sidesteps the heavy topic.

“In a message I left for her, I specifically requested General Organa be the only one aware of the true reason for my absence. I gave a fake reason for her to tell everyone else. Finn, Poe, Rose. They’d drag me back if they knew what was going on. Or they’d insist on staying. I need time away from the war to reassess. I need to figure out what I want for myself. I also just want to be Rey. Not the last Jedi or Jedi girl.”

A wry smile slips onto her lips as she sneaks a fleeting glance at him. Save for the fingers toying with one another, her hands rest idly upon the cedar table.

“Now you, Supreme Leader of the group I logically know that I should be out there fighting, show up. Doesn’t seem like much of a break.”

Tenderly, he rests his hands on the table in front of her with their large palms facing the ceiling above. They beckon for her to rest her hands atop them. Tentatively, she sates his craving for contact by resting her hands on his own, where he gingerly holds them. She can practically feel a faint pink traitorously color her cheeks. Rather than being launched into some disorienting vision of future possibilities or impossibilities, she finds her attention consumed by the tantalizing warmth of his hands encasing her own. When this is the first time that they’ve touched this much, focusing on his words instead of the satisfaction that ignites within because of this moment of contact is no easy task.

“Rey, let me join you while you’re here. We don’t have to discuss the war. Let me be with the you who you want to be. At the end, we can go our separate ways if that ends up being what you want.”

Normally, several questions would fly from her tongue. Will he truly be content to part ways with her? Will he really be able to refrain from speaking of the accomplishments and strides he’s possibly been making in his role? However, she manages to voice one and only one.

“If it’s not?”

Something ‘tween a smile and a smirk forms upon his lips.

“My offer still stands.”

Let the past wither and decay so that the two of them can oversee the creation of something unprecedented. She has no desire to serve up her cherished companions on a silver platter to someone ready to callously wipe them from the galaxy. The mere thought makes her feel as if the ashes of an inferno have been stuffed inside of her mouth. It’s nauseating and repugnant. However, there are other parts of his offer that are not so bereft of appeal. Parts that she’d much rather not dwell on right now, which is why she says nothing pertaining to his contentious offer.

“And I guess you’ll just do your supremely duties from here if I let you stay?”

Regardless of her slightly sarcastic tone, he nods emphatically.

“If it means being with you.”

It certainly sounds as if he has this all figured out. She wonders if he just formed this detailed plan on the spot or if this decision is more premeditated than that. However, that question can wait. The more rational part of her that knows just how persuasive and obstinate he can be finds it best to reject his entreaty and send him away. That part of her tries to stress the importance of distancing herself from all ties to the war including him. That isn’t the part of her that claims victory in her pensive moment of ambivalence, however. He’s already arrived, and she’s unable to find it in her to turn him away.

“This really is an awful idea, but alright. You stay in your own room while you’re here. The innkeeper said he had another. I just have one condition.”

She pauses before divulging that nonnegotiable condition. Her tone of voice leaves no room for argument.

“Drop the bounty on me, and don’t even think about ever reactivating it.”  
  
Not unlike how she’d triumphantly grin en route to her AT-AT after a fruitful day of scavenging, the smirk that stretches across his face is one of reveling. He’s pleased. Immensely, at that.

“I’ll drop it now. Once I return to my room.”

Only within someone appallingly gullible and accustomed to simply accepting information fed to them rather than questioning it, would that second statement fail to rouse suspicion. The keyword in it being return, which can only mean he’s already secured a room.

“So, when I mentioned that the innkeeper had another room, you knew. You didn’t just know, but you’d already checked in before you came to me. You assumed I’d let you spend time with me.”

Along with a roguish grin that’s so evocative of a different Solo, he simply offers a half shrug.

“Maybe I was being hopeful.”

Again, she cannot help but ponder his mysterious method of finding her. This time though, she finds that she cannot refrain from asking about it.

“I just got here yesterday, but here you are today. How did you know to come here?”  
  
To the untrained eye, he’d seem unfazed. To her, he looks reluctant to enlighten her on the matter, but he overcomes that hesitance.

“You mentioned that this is neutral territory. What seems to have escaped you is that neutral doesn’t mean prohibited from having ties to the war. The innkeeper is an old acquaintance of mine. I figured that sooner or later, you wouldn’t be able to resist coming here. Your appreciation of greenery is something I share and haven’t forgotten. I told the innkeeper to let me know if a particular girl showed up.”

A disgruntled scowl demonstrates expedience in establishing a presence upon her face. Blast that innkeeper. He’d seemed so unsuspecting too.

“So this was a trap.”

Seeming to consider her words, he cants his head ever so slightly.

“Not exactly. An acquaintance just returned a small favor by tipping me off about your presence. I’m not here to capture you, and the innkeeper is technically an ally to neither the Resistance nor the First Order.”

She can give a response that’s no more sufficient than that of releasing an audible sigh.

“For someone so _eager_ to destroy the past, you seem incapable of letting me go.”

Not unkindly or brusquely, he releases her smaller hands and begins to stand up. She’s not pleased with the cold feeling of emptiness left in the wake of his prolonged touch, but she makes no attempt to reinitiate contact.

“You’re not my past. You’re my _future_. Now, as I’ve agreed to do, I’ll go remove the bounty.”

He offers a smile - or rather a **smirk** of farewell.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Just like that, she’s left to watch as he makes for the door and removes his presence from the room. What has she gotten herself into? And on her second day out of fourteen days she’s supposed to be on this planet? She’s become more of a danger magnet than she once presumed herself to be.


	2. Clarity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Communication is key. It allows our Galactic Alice to receive clarity and peace of mind from our Galactic Prince.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back with chapter 2! I'll somewhat be alternating between this and From Doves to Ravens. As a quick reminder, this fic takes place post-TLJ ( four weeks after Crait to be precise ). It's going to be lighter in theme than From Doves to Ravens. With that said, thanks in advance for reading!

Sleeplessness isn’t some novel concept to her. From so many nights plagued by a haunting dream of a lonely island - a place that no longer bears unfamiliarity - to the restiveness that discontent routinely saddled her with during the first two weeks following Crait, sleep deprivation is something that she’s had to shoulder for longer than she can recall. What is new, however, is being robbed of sleep for reasons that aren’t entirely objectionable. It’d be a lie to say that peaceful slumber visited her with impeccable swiftness last night. It didn’t.

Perhaps for someone whose craving for touch - for a specific person’s _caring_ touch, an inability to focus on much else after having that desire temporarily sated is only natural. Though it wasn’t an issue for the remainder of the day yesterday after his unanticipated visit, it did prove to be one come nightfall when she sought out the alluring embrace of sleep. Rather than resting itself, her active mind saw fit to fixate on the feel of her hands practically being engulfed by his. It was only due to an innate need for sleep that she ultimately slipped into the realm of unconsciousness extremely late into the night. Or extremely early in the morning, depending on one’s perspective.

Brought to the brink of exhaustion before falling asleep, she cannot even recall doing so as she finds herself roused from her slumber. Once again, her awakening has transpired in the afternoon. The industrious girl who labored from sunrise to sundown on Jakku would frown disapprovingly at her now. Neither she nor the more enlightened woman she’s blossomed into in a relatively short amount of time are here on this planet to toil away, though.

For just a moment, she savors the total absence of urgency as she looks up at the ceiling overhead. Though she’ll never enjoy being languid for too long, there’s something undeniably pleasing about being able to exist in a moment and simply look at what’s in front of her rather than that which has yet to occur. There’s a tranquility to it that was forbidden for so long. Before her thoughts can meander through her innumerable memories of survival on Jakku, she thinks back to the previous day. Not as fondly as she did the previous night, however.

It’s with the memory of yesterday’s unexpected visit and subsequent conversation tackling her in its rush to be recalled that her stomach plummets. Maybe she’s made a mistake. One of consequence; one that’s utterly irrevocable. Disarmed by the overwhelming compassion and unrepressed interest that had magnetized her weeks ago over a warming fire, she’d allowed him to convince her to sacrifice the main purpose of this respite. Caught up in the waves of his longing - of both of their longings, she willingly gave permission to one of the galaxy’s most dangerous individuals to join her in what was meant to be an escape from all matters pertaining to the war. A war that’s certainly not ceased raging on away from this peaceful planet. Not just one of the most dangerous people, but the very person hopeful rebels expect her to best and stop in his efforts to bring planets to heel. The very one who now leads the opposition being faced by cherished friends and allies.

Yet, she knows she’d only be making an additional mistake were she to sneak away from the planet and leave him. A certain amount of guilt still rides on her shoulders in the wake of their last in-person encounter prior to yesterday. Even as she blames him for attempting to ensure the obliteration of the Resistance, she has an idea of the pain that she’s likely given him as well. From his standpoint, she can only presume he believes that she reached out to him with acceptance and understanding only to cruelly rip away such things he’s been denied for so long. By rejecting him in a moment during which his vulnerability was on full display, that’s what he surely believes her to have done.

One can’t coax a lone wolf who’s been severely maltreated out from the shadows only to abandon said wolf especially when in unfamiliar surroundings. This time, were she to leave after allowing him to know her patience and kindness again, she’d unarguably be doing precisely that. Deliberately, this time.

Still, she worries about the outcome of this precarious agreement of theirs. Yesterday effectively proved that she still desires him deeply. Not that there was any doubt about that to begin with. She cannot accept the offer that he insists on still making available to her, but she’s mostly certain that two weeks spent with him will result in her betraying her own resistance to the offer. She’s mostly sure that should he continue to be the genuine and honest person she saw yesterday - the same person she heedlessly left Ahch-To for, she’ll deem it more important to be with him than aid the fighters comprising the Resistance.

Realizing she’s doing exactly the sort of thing that she promised herself she wouldn’t do during this respite, she steadily exhales a sigh of frustration. Her mind is in need of time away from all thoughts pertaining to the war, and she needs time to distance herself from the crossroads that her contradictory feelings have placed her at. She knows that the reprieve that she initially envisioned for herself is now an unreachable impossibility, but she can still try to have a semblance of it. It’s with this goal in mind that she readies herself for a day away from her unpretentious accommodations. No need to be disguised as she was upon her arrival, this time. For the rest of her stay here, there won’t be a need to do so again.

Cautiously, she peers outside to scan the immediate area and ensure that she isn’t being waited for by anyone. Namely _Ben_ , of course. She can easily sense him nearby, but he apparently isn’t loitering outside. Satisfied with the findings of her brief survey of the area, she slips out of the welcoming room and ensures to lock it before proceeding. One of Netebrae’s most attractive features is its scenery. Like the lake nearby. Surrounded by autumnal trees and natural paths formed by people repeatedly walking along them, it’s a serene spot ideal for activities such as medication and rock throwing given the countless rocks scattered about. Close to the water’s edge, she begins to collect handfuls of rocks before taking a seat. One by one, she tosses the rocks out and even attempts to make some skip along the water’s surface. She imagines that were she with someone possessing a competitive spirit, turning the activity into an inconsequential competition would prove enjoyable. Whether she’d win or not is an entirely different matter.

Nevertheless, she carries on with her rock throwing and occasional skipping for what feels like quite some time. All the while, a gentle breeze caresses the nape of her neck as best it can given the fact that her hair isn’t gathered into her iconic three buns. She’s mostly taken to leaving her umber tresses down save for a tiny and limp ponytail. In some ways, this new style isn’t as practical for combat. Yet in others, it’s absolutely less of a hassle. Not to mention, it feels as if a chapter of her life closed when she confronted the sobering truth of her parentage on the Supremacy. With the inevitable closing of that chapter, she’s begun to leave behind the iconic style that she insisted on wearing in the hopes that her parents would recognize her if they ever returned to Jakku. Maz was right about them never coming back.

She wonders if perhaps it would have spared her some suffering had she ceased shielding herself from the unpleasant facts surrounding her parents long ago. Would it have been more beneficial to acknowledge those injurious truths and leave Jakku to establish a life for herself? No, surely not. Otherwise, she’d not have met BB-8. Had she not met BB-8, she’d not have met Finn. Or Leia. Or Chewie. Or Han. The list only goes on from there.

Suddenly, she finds her moment of contemplation disrupted by the sound of movement. She winces when she hears the sound of leaves being crunched underfoot. Had she not been so deep into her rumination, she’d have sensed him before hearing him. She can now. Of course, that doesn’t diminish the fact that there’s a certain finality delivered by the actual sound of him minimizing the distance between them. To her partial surprise, he seats himself beside her, where he remains silent save for the single question looming over them. It’s an unvoiced question, and yet it’s as loud as can be. Releasing a tiny sigh, she finally addresses it. “We need to talk.”

Though clearly weary, he gives a nod meant to encourage her to continue. His willingness to listen so attentively is something that did not go unnoticed the first time that she was afforded the opportunity to be truly heard by him. During a civil conversation, at least. Technically, even from the start, he’s always paid attention. She just hadn’t appreciated his attentiveness until that night when she recounted to him her harrowing experience with the darkness lurking beneath Ahch-To. It’s one of his best qualities. To him, her words and actions evidently matter. To him, _she_ matters. How much? Only of that, despite what he said yesterday, she remains uncertain.

“It’s not that I want to talk about the war, but I can’t pretend. Not while you’re here. The last time you and I actually saw each other, you tried to destroy the Resistance. You almost took people from both of us, and you tried again after that. On Crait, the Resistance would have perished had I not been there to help them. Luke and Han both died because of you.”

As if to prevent a chill from depriving her of her warmth, she crosses her arms and rests her forearms on her knees with her feet still firmly planted to the ground. She gleans no satisfaction from recalling his transgressions. Instead, she feels wounded and saddened. How could she not?

“When it’s just us, it’s easy - _too easy_ \- to look past all of that. It shouldn’t be. It can’t be.”

After a few moments of silence during which he’s undoubtedly mulling over all that’s escaped her lips, he speaks in an inquisitive tone.

“Do you trust me?”

A peculiar question to ask given what she’s just said. Most would probably give him a look of sheer incredulity. They’d question his comprehension of trust, and quickly say an unambiguous ‘no’. As he’s well aware, she’s not like most people. With furrowed brows, she tactfully answers.

“I believe that you value the truth more than anyone else I know, and I believe that you’ll tell me the truth regardless of what it is. Seeing as there’s more to trust than that though, I _can’t_ honestly say that I trust you.”

Though she senses that he’s partly displeased by her response, she doesn’t doubt that he’s grateful that she’s been so forthcoming. Lying to him is the swiftest way to earn his disfavor, after all. Not that she’d ever consider doing so. Not now, anyway.

“The Resistance _will_ be crushed if they continue on the path that they’re on. Instead of delaying death, it’s better to be merciful. However, if the Resistance can be stopped from growing and if they agree to assimilate into the new galaxy as it will become with the right guidance, their deaths can be avoided.”

She’s momentarily stunned into speechlessness. The very same person who insisted she allow the Resistance’s untimely demise to betide now suggesting that they be allowed to live? Why? What changed? Has his offer changed to reflect this? However, despite her unfeigned astonishment, she’s not exactly enthused by his stubborn need for dominance. Bitterly, she utters a presumption.

“You mean _your_ guidance.”

Instead of denying it, he makes to correct her. He doesn’t waste time in doing so either. When he speaks, it’s with unfaltering certitude and unquestionable sincerity. His mind is even clearer than it was when he seemed to come to his realization of the future in the shambolic throne room of his former master.

“And yours. _Our_ guidance, Rey. Together, we create the balance that the Force demands. That balance can be reflected by our rule. I’m not speaking of ruling as light and dark. Our viewpoints balance each other. With your unique understanding of people, you can be a voice for them and make sure that the new galaxy gives them what they need. If you stand with me, you’re the best chance at creating a peaceful resolution between the First Order and the Resistance.”

Whether she likes it or not, what he’s saying isn’t exactly illogical. Even while so determined to refuse his offer time after time for however long he wishes to extend it, she cannot deny the apparent fact that he’s now amended it to be less objectionable. She cannot deny that there’s now little turning her away from accepting. Still, why did he change it? Was it for her sake? Though she wishes to voice those burning questions, her attention is immediately turned to hone in on his next statements.

“As far as Skywalker and Solo are concerned, both wanted to bring back a ghost. Especially Han Solo. Ben Solo no longer exists.”

Vehemently, she shakes her head to refute his claim.

“I don’t believe that. Otherwise, Ben Solo wouldn’t be sitting next to me.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she can see the corners of his lips curve upward ever so slightly. Somewhat softly, he uses his voice to reinforce his claim.

“The Ben Solo you’ve seen isn’t the Ben Solo they hoped to revive. The Ben Solo you speak of is synonymous with Kylo Ren. If only for a moment, you forget that people can be multifaceted.”

To that, she finds that she cannot say anything. Perhaps he's correct to a degree, but she’ll have to contemplate that later. Time is not her opponent at present. Not when she has so much of it to spend here. She doesn’t need him present for her to reflect on and analyze this assertion of his, but she most definitely does need him present to discuss other topics of interest.

So, she opts for focusing on another point bearing significance. A potential area of concern within the agreement that they forged the previous night.

“On the Supremacy, I was going to take back the lightsaber and leave. I wasn’t trying to kill you.”

Subtly yet perceptibly, he offers a solitary nod. Though the faint smile upon his lips hastily vanishes, it’s not because of dissatisfaction or discomfort. It's not the articulation of her intentions that fazes him in any way.

“I knew then and I know now. That doesn’t change anything.”

She’s relieved by the fact that he didn’t mistakenly believe that she had sought to eliminate him, but that isn’t why she’s brought up the delicate topic. Needing to witness the exhibition of emotion within his tenebrous eyes as she bestows unto him a crucial question, she turns to look in his direction for the first time today. She’s already so sure that she knows the answer to what she’s prepared to ask, but she must hear it from him in order for their discussion to arrive at the motive behind her decision to bring up their dispute.

“Had the saber decided to go to you, would you have let me leave?”

Evidently, it’s not a question capable of stumping him. This is a scenario that he’s already considered. Quite possibly more than once. Automatically and with an unyielding gaze, he lets loose one word.

“No.”

She’d suspected as much, which is why she’d tried with all of her might to retrieve the artifact in question. Still, to hear it confirmed aloud? Well, it makes her all the more grateful to the broken lightsaber for concluding that interaction of theirs with a stalemate.

“Then how can I believe that you’ll really be fine with going our separate ways at the end of this?”

Even as she looks at him through skeptical eyes, he collectedly defends the veracity of the words that he spoke the prior day as part of their agreement.

“I’ve never lied to you, and I never will. If at the end of this, you still want to part ways, I’ll accept that. We will see each other again, but I won’t stop you from returning to the Resistance. However, my intention is to show you that your best option is to come with me and accept my offer.”

To someone unfamiliar with him, the last sentence would have seemed like an indirect threat. Wiser than some random person in that regard, she recognizes it as a candid admission of truth. An unbreakable promise and an unvarnished declaration of intent. The strength of his will is attested by the wholehearted zeal illuminating the dark depths of his eyes. He means every word that he’s said.

Satisfied for now with his willingness to part ways should she truly wish it, she moves on to enquire about a matter that hasn’t sought well with her.

“Did you know that I was on the Falcon on Crait?”

Abruptly widening a fraction, his eyes become suffused with disbelief and even a hint of mortification. A flicker of abashment passes through those emotive eyes as well. It’s a genuine reaction, no doubt about it. He honestly didn’t know.

“No, I didn’t. Had I known, I wouldn’t have ordered the Falcon’s destruction at that time.”

On the surface, it might seem like an avowal born from kindliness and care. Yet, she cannot help but roll her eyes at the underlying implication.

“But you’ll order it at another time when I’m not on it. What about Chewie?”

The moment his mouth slams shut, he momentarily clenches his teeth. The usual spasm just beneath his eye occurs. Perhaps the towering Wookie will forever be a touchy subject with the last living Solo.

“When the ship is vacant, I’ll have it destroyed. It’s junk that should have been disposed of ages ago. On Crait, my..emotions weren’t as under control as they normally are.”

While she absolutely disagrees with the vehemence with which he writes off the Falcon, her eyes become sympathetic pools as she focuses on the emotional chaos that he was facing at the time. Partly caused by the murder of his mentor, but doubtlessly primarily caused by her decision to reject his offer. She cannot regret declining; she cannot regret helping the Resistance. Yet, seeing him hurt by her doesn’t leave her unscathed.

“You were still hurt.”

His eyes flutter shut for a fleeting yet still appreciable moment. Due to the softness of his next utterance, she’s sure that those eyelids of his conceal signs of fathomless pain.

“I am.”

Unable to help herself, she slowly raises the hand of hers that’s closest to him. Tenderly, the tips of her agile fingers brush against his cheek. Although he releases a tremulous sigh, he leans into her touch while desperately craving more.

“You know that I can’t apologize for wanting to save my friends, but I never wanted to hurt you. Even if I couldn’t accept, I’m sure it took courage of some sort to make that offer.”

Back in that moment, just for that moment, he’d seemed like a young boy mustering up the bravery to confess a crush to someone he’d grown quite fond of. Granted, he’s no boy and labeling his feelings for her as a crush cheapens them. While she cannot truthfully claim to fully understand the potency of his feelings, she knows that they're far too profound to be trivialized as some crush.

“I wanted a chance. You never stopped to talk. You didn’t even _try_ to negotiate or understand.”

The sheer poignancy of his voice evokes contrition. She’s genuinely ashamed of herself for responding so poorly to his words. Even if his tactless speech about her being nothing was far more painful than he’ll ever understand, she could have at least said something.

“Time wasn’t on our side. Time would have seen the transport ships completely destroyed. Even so, I _am_ sorry.”

With her gingerly and unhurriedly caressing his cheek and his eyes persistently remaining closed, they sit like that for quite some time. Him savoring her affection and her consoling him. When she feels as if she ought to stop, he simply lifts a hand to grip her fingers before they can abandon his cheek. His grip is neither painful nor loose.

“Don’t stop.”

Though phrased as a concise command, the tone accompanying it is certainly that of a humble plea. So she resumes stroking his cheek after he releases her fingers.

Opening his eyes, he curiously voices a query.

“Do you still want to be a Jedi?”

As her preoccupied fingers inch their way up until they’re lightly running through his soft hair, she provides a minuscule smile. Though she need not puzzle over the answer to his question before answering, she’s just not ready to apprise him of that particular truth that he seeks. Not yet.

“That’s a question for another time, Ben. Ask me again the day after tomorrow.”

Though clearly disappointed, he gives a respectful nod and decides against pushing the matter. Determining the moment as a more suitable time to reposition her hand and arm so that her forearm rests upon her knees as it did moments ago, she does precisely that. Just a second after, she offers an apologetic smile. She’d have been distracted by his head still tilting in the direction of where her hand had been as if chasing the fleeing traces of warmth, had she not suddenly remembered another matter that she wishes to ask about. As candidly as she speaks, there’s an indirect and innocuous accusation that accompanies her words.

“The innkeeper was supposed to collect payment from me yesterday, but he never came. It would be absurd to think that you had something to do with that, wouldn’t it?”

A faux-guilty smile stretches across his lips.

“Is it so wrong if I did?”

Letting loose a modest sigh, she shakes her head.

“I can take care of myself, and I don’t want to be indebted to you.”

Without warning, his left index finger and thumb tuck a wayward lock of her hair behind her ear. All the while, a smile turned soft smirk adorns his lips.

“I’m more than aware that you can. Consider it my apology for imposing during your visit to this planet.”

Arching a brow, she allows a teasing smile to find its way to her face.

“Quite the expensive apology, Ben.”

His smirk broadens just a tad. Unsurprisingly, just as she does, he enjoys their lighthearted moments of teasing and playfulness.

“An expense I’d pay again if I had to.”

For the first time, she allows herself the opportunity to completely take in the sight of his attire for the day. A pitch black dress shirt paired with sable trousers and boots. Not as casual as could be, but also not as formal. Perhaps this is as casual as he’s accustomed to, though. Or he feels obligated to maintain some sense of formality as the self-appointed Supreme Leader of the galaxy. Either way, there’s no real need for him to dirty his getup.

“C’mon, you don’t need to ruin your outfit.”

After lifting herself from the ground, she holds out her hands to assist him in standing as well. With bare hands, he takes hold of hers. A second later, he towers over her at his full height. Longer than necessary, he keeps hold of her hands. Just as she speaks to acknowledge their unbroken moment of physical contact, he smirkingly responds to her statement.

“They’re just clothes.”

Unbelievingly, she raises a brow. At once, his lack of regard for his clothing is both oddly pleasing and baffling. Pleasing because he’s not averse to being adventurous as she is. Baffling because she can only envision herself feeling guilty were she to wear some pristine outfit and show a lack of care for maintaining its sumptuousness. Granted, it’s difficult to imagine herself wearing finer attire at all.

“Sure, keep telling yourself that.”

Only then, does she decide to refocus on his hands. Whilst smiling softly, she gently gives his hands a brief squeeze.

“Ben, we’re both standing now. I think it’s alright if you let go.”

It couldn’t be more apparent that he doesn’t want to. Whether it’s the slight dimming of the usual vitality that thrives within his eyes or the faint frown that momentarily appears on his face that betrays his reluctance, he’s clearly not eager to take the hint that she’s dropped. She doesn’t blame him. She isn’t thrilled about the idea either, but it does need to happen if they’re to comfortably walk with each other. So, when he complies by letting go of her hands, she’s quick to offer one of her own.

With a question on his lips, he looks from the proffered hand to her. Conveying both acknowledgement and assent, she gives a lone nod. In response, he does as she wishes for him to and clasps their hands. Satisfied, she confidently takes the lead in commencing their walk.

“It won’t be long before the food places around here stop offering lunch. What does the rest of your day look like?”

Capable of being snuffed out by just a few callous words, harmless hope flickers in his eyes.

“How does yours look?”

Rather than answering, he’s turned her question around for her to answer. Yet, this non-answer informs her of precisely what she needs to be made aware of. With a buoyant smile adorning her lips, she answers.

“I was thinking about getting some food. After that, I’ll look around and see more of the town. You’ll be coming with me.”

Her words cause his innocuous hope to turn into palpable satisfaction. Not only does the expression upon his face make that known, but her keen awareness of the sentiments that occupy his heart ensures that she isn’t oblivious to his gratification.

“If you’ll allow me.”

As the familiar sight of their first destination reacquaints itself with her watchful eyes, she reaffirms her decision to welcome his company. There's no hesitation to be noticed in how she responds. She knows what she wants just as she knows what he wants.

“I do.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for taking the time to read! Please remember to water crops by giving kudos and comments! Those are deeply appreciated. Catch me on Twitter @thehauntedmanda. I do love and accept prompts.


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